


A Midnight Reprieve

by Guardian Of The Lotus (DistantStorm)



Series: Fictober 2019 [22]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hope, The Red War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/Guardian%20Of%20The%20Lotus
Summary: Sometimes, you just need to hold and be held onto by the people you care about.Written for day 22 of the Fictober 2019 Challenge on Tumblr: "We could have a chance."





	A Midnight Reprieve

It's dark. The sound of crickets echo loud in the damp, foggy night, the roaring fires dotting the landscape not enough to prevent the chill from seeping into his bones. He does not rub his hands together or make a fuss, but he does lean in a touch closer to the fire, lost in his thoughts.

He's brought back to reality by a blanket being thrust around him. A comically large one, even for his frame, in armor - which, he does not go without armor. Not these days.

"Scooch over," Comes a soft drawl, and then Amanda is rounding the bench and nudging him with her knee. "That's an order," She hums, but there's nothing forceful about it. She doesn't have to be forceful to get her way in most things.

Zavala shakes his head, sliding over, and she lifts the excess flap of blanket to tuck herself in beside him. "Hello, Holliday."

"Amanda," She pushes back. "You never were very good at droppin' the formalities, Sir."

He chuckles; It's just a little hiccough of sound. She knows what it means. It's rich, coming from a woman who calls him 'Sir' like it's a moniker for a parent (not a superior) and has almost all her life. His right arm comes up and around her and she burrows into his embrace, careful-like. This is his bad side, he'd been injured at Towerfall. His Ghost had done what she could, but-

"It's fine," He murmurs into her hair, sensing her feelings on the matter. "You worry too much."

"Pot callin' the kettle there," She quips back softly.

"Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," He reminds her in response, and they share a tiny, secret smile before lapsing into a comfortable silence. "You should be sleeping," He eventually reminds her.

Amanda rolls her eyes. Anyone else would feel the urge to slink away under his scrutiny but she knows it's masking something else. "Could say the same for you. What's on yer mind?"

"Me?" He shrugs, horrible at playing it off. "The usual."

She tsks. He sighs. Seems about right. "Yeah sure. Talk t'me."

Crickets chirp for the longest while, but Amanda, as impatient as she is, has always known when to push and when not to pry. He's fighting whatever's going on in his head. She's not stupid. They're two peas in a pod, anxious as all get-out, as much as they might keep a lid on it. He's just… the picture of calm, while she hides behind a fiery temper and flashy maneuvers. Really, it's a no brainer that he was good with her when she was young.

As she's gotten older, the opposite has been proven, too.

"Hawthorne's somethin', ain't she?" She ventures eventually, eyes darting to his when he continues bearing his burdens in silence.

Zavala tenses and it's the opening Amanda's been waiting for. She pulls herself closer to him and tucks her head against his shoulder. "She is… interesting."

She looks up into his bright eyes, clarifying, "You're not thrilled with her."

"It's-" He almost chews his lip, but instead his jaw clenches. "She is doing great things, and she's saved so many people-"

When he trails off, Amanda sighs. "She don't like the City and it stings, am I right?"

Zavala watches her. Her legs kick out, dangling from the bench before she tucks them up and under her, grumbling about her prosthetic under her breath. The methane rain on Titan hadn't been kind to it, and the cold dampness of the planet’s atmosphere really aggravated old wounds.

"It does," He admits. "I-_we_ did the best we could."

She gives him a sad smile. "All my childhood I dreamed of bein' safe in the City. What my folks wanted fer me, ya know?" He does. "It's weird that she’s so against it, if ya ask me, but she's… I dunno, hear me out, she's not so bad."

"I know. It is just… grating."

She squeezes him around the middle. Not tightly, still mindful. “Try 'n be patient. She's tryin' too, I think."

"I never thought I'd see the day when you told me to be patient," He muses, then continues, sadly, "I never thought I'd see the day that any of this-" He looks down into his hand and clenches it. Amanda lays her fingers over the coil of his fist and wills it smooth.

"We're gonna get through this, Sir."

"You think so? The people here, the refugees act like it, but-"

"We could have a chance. Y'jus gotta believe it. Us Lightless folk, we ain't afraid to fight. An' for this, the Traveler? It's not a bad cause to die fer-"

"Amanda-"

"I know, I know, you don't-" She blinks up at him and stops, her lip quivering at the dewy look in his eyes. "No," She drawls, pushing on his arm, "You quit that or we're both gonna be sittin' here bawlin' like babies. I can't take it when you-"

"I know."

He pulls her into his lap, nose and lips at her temple, eyes shut, lashes tangled in her messy hair. Her arms automatically pull the blanket around them in a messy cocoon and they just breathe, just try to pull themselves together.

"We're gonna get through this," She tells him, fingers fanning out over his cheek. He's almost startled by the size of it, of how much she's grown. The last time she'd been in his lap this way had to be years ago. Before the flight academy, when things were far, far simpler and she was just a little girl and he was her shelter from the storm. Now, he can't tell who's comforting who. It doesn't change the fact at hand: He's proud of her. "We're gonna get Cayde 'n Ikora," She says, "An' we're gonna rough up those big-ugly space rhinos. Together."

"Together," He agrees, and hugs her once more. She makes no attempt to move, arms wrapped loosely around him.

"Was worried my big 'ole head wouldn't fit on your shoulder anymore, what with your gear an' all," Amanda laughs quietly, tucking her head between his wide pauldrons, nose brushing against his neck.

"Never." He adjusts his grip, making sure she's secure. "Good?"

"Yeah. You?"

He rests his head against hers and hums something in the affirmative. She's never actually been sure it's a comfortable position. Not physically. But sometimes you just need to hold and be held onto, Amanda thinks.

It's the first time since this whole thing started that she doesn't have any nightmares.


End file.
